The King's Legacy
by OceansAria
Summary: A tale of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere's child, a courageous princess, who goes through many hard trials to protect her kingdom, like her father did before her.
1. Chapter 1

The young child, a beautiful girl of only five, dashed down the palace's corridor, headed towards the heart of the castle.

She giggled gleefully as she picked up the pace, her dark blue dress swirling around her legs like the sea's tide. Her small arms pumped harder against her sides. She bumped into servants and jostled their trays, but they didn't reprimand her; she was too sweet to scold.

The young girl knew her mother wouldn't be happy with her for being late - but she'd gotten caught up in the stables, brushing the newest horse who was a little over a year old, and just as clumsy as she. She'd only been reminded of the time when one of the stablehands had returned to feed the horses.

Running up the staircase took the girl's breath. She pashed Gaius, the old healer, who smiled and waved at her. He was so old that it took him forever to get from one place to another, but the little girl saw him as a grandfather and loved to spend hours talking to him in his chambers. Then she passed her regular servers, Gail and Mary, who both curtsied and said, "Your mother's not happy with you!"

The little girl just rolled her eyes. _Of course Mother isn't happy. I'm always late._

Finally, she reached the great wooden doors that led to the throne room, and the Round Table. She threw open the doors recklessly, drawing the attention of all those inside as she rushed across the threshold, and then skidded to a stop in the middle of the room.

Twenty pairs of eyes turned on her. Of that, included the Queen's and all of the most familiar knights. Percival chuckled at the sight of the little girl, her dress's hem covered in mud and hair a-mess. He nudged Leon, who sent an amused smile the girl's way as well.

"Elizabeth," Merlin scolded, his voice not unkind. He appeared out of nowhere, grinning at her state of untidiness. He kneeled in front of her and touched her arm. "Oh, Lizzie, your mother's been so worried about you! They've been searching every square inch of the palace!"

Elizabeth just giggled mischeviously and leaned in as if to share a deep, dark secret. "They were looking in all of the wrong places, then. I was in the stables."

The servant raised an eyebrow. "Checking out the new horse, I assume?"

"Yes!"

"You know she's to be yours?" he whispered.

Elizabeth gasped and clutched his hand. "_Really_? Oh, Merlin! I _am_ turning six in two weeks!"

Merlin laughed. How he loved that child. "Yes, yes, you are." He stood and patted her shoulder. "Now, go. I'll see you at supper."

Elizabeth scurried forward, towards the wide round table and the Queen. She climbed up into the empty, red velvet draped chair next to Queen's left and looked up just in time to catch her softened gaze. She wasn't so unhappy after all.

Once Elizabeth was settled, the Queen turned to address the knights in her confident, gentle voice. "Now that our princess has arrived, we can begin the meeting to plan the celebration of her sixth birthday." Immediately, Elizabeth shouted out that she wanted a cake as tall as the trees that was pink on the inside and out.

The Queen glanced to her young daughter, and smiled. Only the knights saw the sorrow in the Queen's smile; whereas Elizabeth only saw her mother's joy. For when Guinevere looked at her daughter, she saw her lost husband's spirit radiating out of her like a beacon in the night. Elizabeth may have been darker skinned and curly haired like her mother, but her eyes were a piercing, lovely sky blue - just like her father's had been. The princess's soul was full of courage and hope from the King, and wisdom and gentleness from the Queen.

As the young princess chattered on and on about her birthday celebrations, Gwen rubbed her fingers over the thick silver ring tied around her neck.

One day, Gwen would have to pass on the ring, and therefore the burden of leadership, to her daughter.

But it was more than just the burden of the kingdom.

Because the innocent and sweet Elizabeth Pendragon was all that was left of her father's legacy to make Camelot the greatest kingdom the world had ever known.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

_Hi, guys! Sorry. This is just a repost. I saw a couple of things that were wrong, and though they were minor, I just HAD to fix them! I'm a perfectionist when it comes to my writing!_

* * *

**Chapter One**

_Ten Years Later_

Elizabeth Pendragon had grown up to become the spitting image of her mother - and as a spirited woman of eighteen, she was already bethrothed to a prince in an ally's kingdom.

She had met the prince a few times before when his family had visited on special occasions, like Elizabeth's birthday. The prince was tall, scrawny, and had hair the color of horse manure. His smile may have been bright, but his eyes were dull and gray, and he constantly seemed bored. The only thing that enthralled the young prince was rambling for hours on end about politics, or being a full-out pervert. Elizabeth had decided long ago to avoid him at all costs, even if one day he was to be her husband.

But Elizabeth always had a feeling that her mother - sweet, caring Queen Guinevere - would _never_ make her marry such a dollophead as Prince Alyon. She had fiercely held on to the prospect, through every dance she endured with the prince, that when the time came for her to be married, her mother would simply say, "Elizabeth, dear, you do know that I was _joking_ the whole time, don't you? I would never make you marry a prince such as he!"

But then came the day of her eighteenth birthday. That dreaded day when she became of marrying age.

Elizabeth started her day the same way she did every day. She rose at the crack of dawn, threw on a pair of riding pants, leather boots, and a fresh tunic secured by her thick leather belt. Into the sheath attached to her belt went her sword - made specfically for her in the royal forge. Then she'd tie her raven black curls back into a braid, secure it with a ribbon, and dash out to the stables.

The princess wasn't what many called "princess material". She dreaded dresses, shoes, and anything to do with being a lady. Ever since she'd received her sword when she was ten, she had stopped playing tea time with the maids and went out to practice with the knights. They, of course, humored her at first because she was their princess and they all doted on her. Not long after, they began to realize that Elizabeth was a natural warrior, like her father. Everything about a battle came easily to her, like breathing. She parried and poked, struck and side-stepped, and soon, won her first duel without even breaking a sweat. After that, the knights and Elizabeth requested that she practice every day with them. And she did.

Over the years, Elizabeth had become one of the fiercest, most courageous fighters. She not only fought terrifically with a sword, but excelled at archery, mastered the mace, and became skilles with many other weapon - again, exactly like her father.

As Elizabeth strode into the royal stables, she grabbed an apple from a servant's platter that was intended for the horses. She bit into it with a crisp _crunch_ and began to hum an old tune the knights had taught her as she skipped towards her horse's stall.

Elizabeth's first horse, a Palomino mare named Beauty, had died when Elizabeth was fourteen. She was eight years old and had eventually gotten to the point that she could hardly stand and walk from all of the adventures the princess took her on. Now, Elizabeth owned a pitch black stallion named Herron, who was only a little over two years old and was as wild as the wind. A servant was waiting with Herron's reins in his hand. As soon as Elizabeth grabbed the reins from him, she stuck the apple between her teeth and swung up into the saddle - not a second later, she took off.

As she rode through the courtyard towards the exit, she was joined by Percival and Leon, who were also on horseback and wore equally irritated expressions.

"What's with the sour faces, boys?" Elizabeth laughed, glancing over her shoulder in their direction.

"You were supposed to wait for us, my Lady," Leon replied, his lips pouty. "How many times have we told you to wait until we're ready before you take off? You know you're not supposed to leave alone!"

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm old enough that I don't need guards everywhere I go! Besides, you two are getting too old for this!"

Percival grunted. "_Excuse_ me? I'm not a day over thirty, mind you!"

The princess laughed again and spurred Herron, speeding up as they exited the courtyard and down the worn path towards the woods. The two knights, no longer miffed, chuckled and surged ahead, trying to keep pace with their charge. Elizabeth had always been adventuorous like her father, and loved the thought of imminent danger that involved using her swordsmanship for real. When she sparred with the knights, they always held back - she could tell they were even if they claimed they weren't. They didn't want to hurt her, or harm the only heir to Camelot's throne. The balance between peace and chaos was a very fragile one, all dependent upon the breath in her lungs and the beat of her heart.

The trio plunged into the forest at top speed, galloping down the path and stirring up dry dirt. Elizabeth inhaled as much fresh air as she could, knowing that she would be holed up in the palace for the rest of the day once she returned. She rose up in her saddle and swung one arm, the other hand clutching the reins. She closed her eyes. She felt the wind combing its light fingers through her hair, whispering over her caramel skin, cooling her flushed cheeks. She whooped.

For a moment, the princess was free of her baggage, her concerns, her oncoming future as Queen and faithful wife. The smell of pine and dirt filled her senses, and the rush of adrenaline bubbled in her veins. For a moment, she wasn't a princess. She was just a eighteen-year-old girl, traveling with her friends, carefree and ordinary.

Elizabeth, Leon, and Percival hunted and rode for several hours. Since it was her birthday, she had no lessons or duties to fufill. All she had to do was be back at the palace by five, so that the maids could get her ready for her coming-of-age ball. All of the royals had theirs when they turned eighteen. Her mother had invited Prince Alyon and his family to come, being that now they were both "of age", since he had turned eighteen just four months before.

After a while, the trio stopped for a rest. They tied up their horses to graze and settled down to eat lunch by a gurgling stream. They found enough food in the saddlebags to feed a small army.

"Eh, Lizzie, look," Percival said. "Looks like the kitchen staff made your favorite meal."

Elizabeth giggled like a little girl and took the bundled up food from the knight. She unwrapped the cloth and took a good whiff of the food. "Ugh," she wrinkled her nose. "Still stinks like a horse's behind."

Leon chuckled. "I still can't believe you like the cabbage and onion soup. It tears up my stomach."

The princess shrugged good-naturedly and dug in with the spoon Percival offered her. "It has an acquired taste about it. I only eat it on special occasions as to not get sick of it."

As they ate, they joked and told stories. The knights loved to tell stories about the good old days when they were young and just starting out. They told all sorts of outrageous tales about the battles they were in and the monsters they battled. In the past eighteen years, Camelot had had its share of attacks and bloodshed, but not as much as during the time when her father was alive.

Those were the stories Elizabeth loved the most - the stories the knights shared about her father, the great King Arthur, whose reign had been cut short. He'd been an arrogant, self-centered oaf when he was a young Prince, but when he and Merlin became friends, he started to show off his better traits - like kindness, forgiveness, mercy, and understanding. He treated peasants as equals but still made sure they knew he was their ruler. He was brave beyond words and smart with battle strategies. He fought fearlessly and won many championships held by the kingdom when he was Prince. He was a warrior, through and through, just as she was.

When the knights told these stories, Elizabeth felt closer to her father. She'd never met him, of course. He'd died when her mother was in the early stages of her pregnancy, and didn't even know of it. Not many people talked about her father's death, but only about his life. They told her not to dwell on the fact that he was gone, but it bothered her to know she'd never meet the man who had sired her and ruled the kingdom she was to inherit.

The knights often told her she had her father's spirit. He was stubborn and rude, just as she was, but that usually meant he liked you. Merlin often spoke fondly of the insults they crafted for each other and how even when they acted like they couldn't stand one another, they were the best of friends.

"I wish he was here," Elizabeth whispered, picking a roll, which was smothered in cinnamon butter.

Leon and Percival went deathly silent and still. When she glanced up, both of their faces looked gaunt and tired - etched with lines of sorrow.

"We know," Leon spoke softly. "We do, too, my Lady."

"Yeah," Percival agreed. "He would've absolutely adored you and spoiled you rotten. Not that you aren't, ya little brat."

She knew it was his attempt at humor to lighten up, but still, a weight sat on her heart. No matter how many times the knights retold the same stories, and Merlin described her father to her, her father would never be _there,_ alive and well, with her. She could pretend he was alive all she wanted to, but that wouldn't bring him back. The princess would never have the father-daughter relationship she so desperately craved.

Elizabeth forced a small smile when she noticed the two knights staring at her with concerned pouts on their faces. She stuffed the rest of the roll in her mouth and stood, brushing off her tunic. The sun was high and warm overhead, beaming through the trees, leaving yellow spots on the ground at their feet.

"Well, we better get moving," Elizabeth said as cheerfully as she could. "It's past noon and I've got hunting to do before I have to get all primped and girli-fied."

With that, the conversation about her father was done. The princess hopped onto her horse and spurred his sides. She wasn't going to let her birthday be ruined by dark thoughts.

Before either of her guards could climb onto their steeds, she took off into the sunlight-dappled forest. Their shouts were drowned out by the gentle breeze and Herron's hooves pounding on the earth.

With each resounding boom, she pushed aside a thought about her father.

_He's dead, Lizzie,_ she told herself, the burden on her heart lifting as Herron soared over a fallen log. _He's dead._

* * *

The sun was sinking when Elizabeth returned to the palace. It wasn't quite five o'clock, but she knew that her maids would be fretting and rushing around asking if anyone had seen the princess.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she guided Herron by the reins into his freshly stocked stall. _They should know by now that I'm going to be out until the last possible second._ She patted her heaving horse's sides and left him in the hands of the stable boy. Leon and Percival were chatting at the entrance, and more familiar faces greeted her as she crossed the courtyard towards the back passageway she usually took to her chambers. Going up the main staircase meant possibly running into Alyon - she'd been informed upon her arrival that he'd gotten there around noon - and she wanted to avoid contact with him for as long as possible. Just thinking about his fishy, dull gray eyes gave the princess a chill as she trotted up the marble steps.

On her way to her chambers, she caught sight of Merlin at a distance and tried to get his attention. He smiled and waved, his bifocals perched low on his nose. His arms were full of books. He had just left the library. Before Elizabeth could walk over to talk to him, however, she was intercepted by her maids.

They came out of her room in a flurry, arms flailing and screechy voices screeching. Elizabeth's maids were twins - Fauna and Flora - and they were both plump, short, and rosy-cheeked. The twins were only a day over fourteen. They'd become her maids when she was twelve, and they'd eventually become friends.

"Lizzie!" Fauna whined. Fauna had a mole on her cheek - that was the only way Elizabeth could tell which was which. They were identical from their curly blond hair down to their spit-shined shoes. "You _knew_ you were supposed to be here at five - "

"And it's five on the dot," Elizabeth replied smugly as the distant cathedral bells rang out. She pushed past the twins and the pair of guards at her door, and into her chambers. The place was already set up for her to get primped - the bath was steaming in the corner, clothes were laid out on the bed, and brushes, perfumes, and jewelry were neatly aligned on the rarely-used vanity. "Ugh," she groaned upon the sight of all of that. "Why can't I just go as I am? I'm not dirty."

The twins bustled into the chambers behind her and shut the heavy oak door. Flora sniffed indignantly. "And I suppose you think you don't smell, either?"

Elizabeth frowned. Sniffing her armpits, she replied, "No, not really. Maybe some day-old stink, but nothing that couldn't be taken care of with some perfume."

The twins giggled and rolled their identical round green eyes. They began to push the princess towards the bath, where she stripped down relucantly and climbed into the pleasantly warm water. The water relaxed her tense, sore muscles and aching feet. Flora massaged soap into her hair and Fauna dumped water over her head to wash out the suds. Elizabeth scrubbed her body quickly, because the water was growing cold, and stepped out into the circle of a fluffy towel. Another towel secured around her soaking wet hair. The twins guided her to the vanity and sat her down on the satin-covered stool to start making her up.

They towel-dried Elizabeth's hair the best they could and then let it down to air dry. While waiting for her hair to dry, they smothered her body in perfumes and scented lotions until she was smelling like a meadow of wildflowers. They tended to her callused hands and feet, which would luckily be hidden from the public. They put oils in her hair to make her curls soft and beautiful. They pasted a tinted balm on her lips to make them colorful and supple. They pinned back her curls in an elegant updo that showed off her graceful neck and shoulders. A few dark ringlets were left loose around her face appealingly.

Then came the dress. The dress had been especially designed and sewn for her eighteenth birthday celebration by the best tailors money could buy. It was floor-length, with a small train that trailed behind her when she walked. The silk it was made from was the color of freshly fallen snow, and felt like water skirting over her skin when the twins helped her put it on. Her shoulders were bare; long, flowing sleeves hung past her fingertips and halfway to the floor. The corset was tight and created curves she didn't remember having. The neckline, hem, and sleeve edges were decorated with pearls and bits of pure gold. Never had the princess worn anything so finely made.

"Oh!" Flora started to fan her face to keep herself from crying. "Lizzie, you look so lovely!"

"Yes, you're a vision!" Fauna chimed in, tears in her eyes as well.

Elizabeth turned and glanced in the full-length mirror beside her wardrobe and gasped. Usually, she did not believe that she was a pretty girl, or that she should ever wear a dress and jewelry and be all girly. But when she looked in the mirror . . . she didn't see her regular self.

She saw a powerful, beautiful princess, worthy of her title and status.

And that was something Elizabeth would have _never_ described herself as.

* * *

At dusk, as the sun was bleeding out on the horizon, the bells were rung and all of the royals and their servants gathered in the Great Hall to wait for the princess.

Queen Guinevere mingled with the crowd instead of staying on her throne. She wore a regal dress the colors of Camelot - red and gold - and her crown shone in the dying sunlight. Though Guinevere was in her mid-forties, she hardly looked her age. She had crow's feet around her eyes and lines around her pretty mouth, but there was a youthfulness to her smile and dark eyes that made many believe she could've been the princess's sister.

The chattering of the crowd swelled in the Great Hall, echoing off the marble floors and stone walls, drowning out all other sound. There were dukes, duchesses, lords, ladies, kings, queens, and knights. Servants ran about with their arms full of heavy silver platters, offering hors d'oeuvres. Many of the royals were too distracted with their talking or looking about for the star of the evening, the princess, and ignored the servants as they passed.

The Queen politely declined a servant's platter and headed towards a friend who had just arrived. Her ladies' maid scampered along behind her as she crossed the floor fluidly.

"Merlin!" Guinevere embraced the wizard with a genuine smile on her face. She pulled back and stared into his blue-green eyes. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Have you seen Lizzie?"

Merlin shook his head. His dark hair was now full of gray and white streaks, and a beard had begun on his jaw. His back wasn't hunched, but he appeared to have a weight burdening his scrawny shoulders. "I'm sorry, Gwen. I haven't. I only saw her once at a distance today, and then she was taken into her chambers to get ready."

Guinevere sighed. "That child. I love her but she's late to everythi-"

Suddenly, a horn sounded. The annoucer at the front of the room, standing beside the grand double doors lowered his trumpet and said in his booming, deep voice: "Please welcome Her Royal Highness, Princess Elizabeth Ygraine Pendragon of Camelot!"

The heavy oak doors opened dramatically, and everyone caught their breath as the princess stepped through over the threshold, into the Great Hall. Clapping started as soon as many recovered their breath; yet they still gaped at the incredible sight. Many had heard that the princess wasn't your regular girly-girl. They all knew she preferred boots to heels and archery to sewing. But she looked like an angel in her innocent white dress, her smile regal and eyes full of gentleness. She looked like the future Queen.

Guinevere inhaled sharply and held back tears. _Oh, Arthur. If only you could see your daughter now._

The moment the clapping stopped and the music started up, the Queen slipped through the thick crowd towards her daughter. Elizabeth was still standing right where she'd last seen her, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes darting about. The moment her blue eyes landed on her mother, she broke into a huge grin and dashed forward in her usual un-princess-like way. For once, the Queen didn't reprimand her because she loved her and it was her birthday.

"Mother!" Elizabeth threw her arms around the Queen's neck and hugged her tightly.

"Lizzie, dear, you look so wonderful," the Queen said as she stepped back and took her daughter's hands. "Your father would've cried at the sight of you."

A dark look stole over Elizabeth's face. Her lips tightened. "Yes, I suppose he would have," was all she said before she slipped out of her mother's grasp and turned to embrace Merlin.

Merlin laughed into her shoulder. "Happy birthday, Lizzie. You've grown up much too fast."

Elizabeth giggled and grabbed Merlin's hand. A lively tune had started, and Elizabeth wanted to push the dark thoughts that had begun to cloud her mind about her father once more. "Dance with me, Merlin!"

"No, no, I can't - "

"_Merlin_," Elizabeth said mock-sternly. She put a fist on her hip. "I _order_ you to dance with me."

The wizard rolled his eyes. "Now you sound like your father."

Again, Elizabeth's eyes went dull and her smile lacked its luster. But she forced another huge grin and pulled Merlin out onto the dance floor before he could notice, and blocked out any thought of her father with the music filling her ears.

* * *

The party was a little halfway over when Elizabeth finally took a break from dancing and sat down at one of the tables spread about the room to get a drink. Merlin had retiredn to his chambers not long before, claiming Elizabeth had worn him out. The tables were mostly empty except for a few older men and women and young children. The princess asked a nearby servant for water, and the servant hurried back quickly with a golden goblet full.

Elizabeth sipped at her water and watched the party around her. She had already danced with Alyon twice, and had avoided him for most of the evening. He was currently talking to a duchess around Elizabeth's age, and every few seconds, he moved closer and kept finding reasons to touch the duchess. This didn't both Elizabeth, just disgusted her.

There were many young men there that night - some were especially handsome or wealthy, or handsome _and _wealthy - but none of them caught her eye. In the middle of one of her many dances, she'd been delievered a note from one of her servants. After reading it hastily and acting like it was absolutely nothing, she'd continued her evening like nothing had happened. Truthfully, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she had read the note and her cheeks were still stained red.

Elizabeth took another look around the room. Her mother was sitting on her throne; Flora and Fauna were eating as many sweets as they could, since it was rare for the servants to eat such rich food. The knights were joking, laughing, and flirting with every pretty woman that walked by. The princess sighed in relief and set down her goblet. Her absence would go unnoticed.

The princess stood, straightened her dress, and made sure her hair looked all right before sneaking out of a back exit that led straight into a small garden. This exit was mostly used by the royal family only, so no one would follow her.

The moon was especially bright that night, and left her feeling naked and exposed in the garden with its low walls. The night was balmy, the air sticking to her skin and causing perspiration beneath her arms. She grabbed fistfuls of her skirt and hiked it up to her knees so that it wouldn't get dirty, and so she could run. Elizabeth picked up the pace as she trotted past the flourishing rosebushes and sunny yellow daffodils, towards the gate hidden by a rosemary bush.

The first time Elizabeth had used the gate, it hardly budged and it had taken her half an hour to get it open. Now, the lock slid open without a sound. Elizabeth slipped out and onto the small dirt path that took her down to a small, bubbling stream at the edge of the forest.

In the distance, the princess could see a tiny, flickering light. Her heart started beating even faster, if that was possible. She gathered her skirt tighter in her hands and poured on the speed. Within minutes, she was at the first marker, a drooping willow tree, and the candlelight was getting brighter. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears; and feel it in her neck, wrists, and ankles. It had been too long since she felt this way.

Suddenly, she stepped on a twig. It snapped. She froze, holding her breath. The candle glowing in the darkness up ahead went out. Elizabeth cursed under her breath.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! You're supposed to be the best warrior in Camelot! _She thought angrily. She listened closely and heard a rustle of movement as the person beyond the next tree rose to leave. _No!_ She thought. She couldn't let that happen.

Elizabeth decided to do something a trained warrior wound never do: run screaming and hollering right into the heart of the problem.

In the darkness, she tripped over a tree root and fell into something solid and warm. The sound of a sword being drawn split through the night. An arm snaked around her waist as the person and the princess fell heavily to the earth, the breath being knocked out of them in the process.

"What the - " A deep, smooth, honey-sweet voice began, but cut off when Elizabeth choked out, "It's me!"

The young man who had caught her tried to sit up, but with her weight on his chest, he could hardly move. Without the candlelight, the moon shone on his handsome face and made him look like a ghost. Green-gold eyes widened at the sight of her. "_Lizzie_? God, I had hoped it was you."

Elizabeth grinned and climbed off of the young man's torso. Once she was on her feet, she lent him a hand. Face to face, the young man towered over her by a least a few inches. They still clasped hands, and she savored the feeling of his skin against hers.

"Hello, Tristan," she whispered, a lump working its way into her throat.

Tristan gave her his trademark crooked grin. "Hello, Liz."

Instead of talking right away, the two just stared at the other and drank each other in. Tristan was tall, lean, and muscular. He had broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. His skin was darkened from many days spent in the sun. His messy, tousled brown hair had specks of blond. He had a strong jaw and chin; a teasing grin and full, soft lips; thick eyelashes and a serious brow. His high cheekbones gave him a regal look, though he was just a poor merchant, who traveled the earth in search of money and food. Elizabeth and Tristan had been friends since they were young children, running around the Lower Town with sticks for swords and playing make-believe. His parents had both died when he was young, and he was left to his uncle, a merchant that traveled all over the earth. He took Tristan in, and by the time of Elizabeth's twelvth birthday, Tristan was gone.

After that, Tristan was back every once in a while. He always made sure to visit her. Over time, they grew close and fell for one another. When his uncle died, he took over the work by himself and was gone more and more often. At nineteen, he had been to places Elizabeth had never even heard of and brought her back tons of treasures.

Elizabeth broke the silence by reaching up and touching his face. "You cut your hair."

"Yes," he replied softly.

"Every time I see you, you look different," she said, sounding sad.

Tristan turned his head and kissed her palm. "You do, too, Liz." His eyes flitted over her body in a non-pervert way that made her skin tingle all over. He reached out and touched her waist, where her corest ended and her skirt began. She shivered. "You look like a real princess. And absolutely beautiful. I'm not worthy of you."

Elizabeth laughed, though the comment made her chest tighten with anger. "I'm not worthy of _you_, Tristan. You're far too good for me."

He wrapped his arm around her waist completely and pulled her flush against his body. She held back a gasp as she placed her hands on his chest, balling up the scratchy white material of his tunic in her grip. There was a heat growing between them that hadn't been there before. Over the six months they'd been apart, Elizabeth hadn't gone a day without thinking about Tristan and his well-being. She wasn't usually a worrier, except for when it came to her friends and family. And Tristan was definitely way more than a friend.

"I missed you," Tristan said in a low, gravelly tone that made Elizabeth shudder again.

She glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "I missed you more."

Tristan lowered his face near hers and grinned. "Is that a challenge, princess?"

"Maybe."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then let's put your affections to the test."

Suddenly, his lips grazed hers. This was a moment Elizabeth had dreamed and fantasized about for the past six months while he was away. He'd kissed her thousands of times before, but each kiss was sweeter and better than the last. She shut her eyes tightly and bit her lip to make sure it wasn't a dream. _Nope. That hurt. Definitely not a dream._

Tristan kissed her more insistently this time. His lips were so tender and inviting, just as she remembered. She immediately replied - and maybe a little _too _eagerly.

He stopped her.

"Whoa, slow your horses there." He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. He tightened his hold on her waist, his callused fingers digging into the soft material of her corset. "It seems like I got my answer," he said teasingly.

Elizabeth blushed furiously. "Sorry."

He smiled gently, his green-gold eyes alight with laughter like they always were. "There's nothing to be sorry about." He extracted a hand from her waist and ran the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip enticingly. "You taste like raspberries."

Elizabeth laughed. "I ate a tart earlier." Her laughter cut off as she realized how gaunt and dirty Tristan looked - he'd lost weight since the last time they'd seen one another. Dark stubble grew on his jaw and bruise-like half moons were under his eyes. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug and buried her face in his chest. "I should've brought you some food," she mumbled into his shirt.

Tristan rested his cheek against the top of her head. "No, love. You've given me too much already - and I hate that I can't pay you back."

Elizabeth sighed. "We've been over this, Tristan. I don't _want_ you to pay me back. It was gift. I do it because - " She dropped her sentence right in the middle, a blush flourishing across her cheeks. She hid her face in his tunic.

He chuckled and stroked her curls. "Go on, say it. You know you want to. I'm _irresistable_."

She raised her head from his chest. Their eyes met once again, and she found herself being pulled towards him by an unearthly force. She felt like she was falling, drowning, sinking into him. Suddenly, she was super-sensitive to everywhere their bodies touched. Their chests, torsos, hips, and thighs. Their arms and hands brushed. His palms slid down to rest against her hips and hers slid up to lock around the nape of his neck, where she twisted his wavy brown hair around her fingers. His breath was warm on her face, and smelled of cinnamon and spice.

Elizabeth rose up on her tiptoes and got _thisclose_ to kissing him before she stopped herself. He inhaled sharply, his body quivering. She whispered, "I love you."

He groaned. "Don't tease a man like that, Lizzie!"

She giggled and let him get another kiss out of her before the time dawned on her. _Literally_. The church bells were sounding off in the distance. It was midnight. The party ended at midnight.

She'd been out too long.

Elizabeth cursed. Tristan raised an eyebrow and laughed at her foul language.

"A beautiful woman such as you with a sailor's mouth," he said, shaking his head. Then he noticed her worried expression. "What's wrong?"

"I've stayed out too late," she said softly. "I have to go." His smile immediately faded, and he took her face in his hands. Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes and she clutched him to her. "I don't want to go, Tristan. I don't want you to leave for another six months."

Tristan kissed Elizabeth gently. He wiped the tears out of her eyes with his thumbs. "Don't cry over me. I'm not worth it."

"Tristan - "

"You'll see me again," he whispered urgently, as if to try and reassure himself too. "I promise. I won't get killed doing something stupid."

She laughed through her tears, making a wet, choking sound. So far, this was the third or fourth time that day that she about had a meltdown.

Then an idea popped into her head. "Wait! Tristan! You can stay in the palace!"

He frowned. "No, Liz, I don't think so. I'm just a merchant. I have no business there. And if they found out about us - "

But Elizabeth was already dead-set on the plan formulating her mind. She grabbed his hand even as he continued to protest.

"I know someone who will help us inside the palace who won't breathe a word unless I tell them to," she said eagerly.

Again, he frowned. "Who?"

An evil little smile played across her lips.

"Merlin."

* * *

_OLD: _

_So, I decided to give Elizabeth a love interest. Tristan is really sweet! I love him already. He's fun to write about._

_Tell me what you guys think about, well, EVERYTHING!_

_I want to hear what you guys think!_

_I will be writing more!_

_XOXO, OceansAria_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Sneaking throughout the now-sleeping and quiet palace was the easy part. Both Elizabeth and Tristan were trained in stealth and had no problem getting past the guards - since most of them had a little bit too much cider with all of the celebrations going on.

The hard part was waking up Merlin.

"Merlin!" Elizabeth hissed as she pounded on his door, softly as not to alert any nearby knights. "_Merlin_! Wake _up_! It's me, Lizzie! I need you!"

A long minute later, the door swung open to reveal a half-asleep, irritated Merlin.

He rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Lizzie? What are you doing up?"

Elizabeth glanced around and then pushed past Merlin and into his chambers. He huffed as he shut the door, rolling his eyes. _That girl. Just like her father, I swear._ Then the wizard turned to face the princess, and for the first time, he noticed the tall, lean figure of a young man standing slightly behind her. The fingers of the boy's left hand were entwined with Elizabeth's right. The way he looked at her said more than words ever could.

Merlin sighed inwardly. _Another forbidden romance. I thought Gwen and Arthur would be the last of my time._ Then the thought of his deceased friend made him melancholy, and he decided to forget about it by saying, "Lizzie, who's this?"

Elizabeth licked her lips as if to prepare for a long-winded speech. "This is Tristan. He's a merchant, but he needs a place to stay because he doesn't have money for an inn and I told him that he could stay with you, because you're _so_ nice, and I can't just leave him out all alone - "

"Whoa!" Merlin interrupted. "One stepping stone at a time, sweetheart." He grinned lazily and gestured to the young man. "And it seems that _Tristan_ here is a lot more than just a friend, Lizzie."

Elizabeth turned all shades of red - from scarlet to burgundy. "T-Tristan's not my b-boyfriend, if t-that's what y-you're saying, M-Merlin," she stammered.

Merlin smirked. "Mmm-hmm."

Elizabeth sighed heavily, her sapphire blue eyes hardening. "I'm begging you, Merlin. Please let Tristan stay here. He's . . . very _important_ to me." She glanced back at the boy in question, who, in return, gave her a tender smile and squeezed her fingers. Oh, they were _definitely_ in love.

Again, the wizard smirked. He couldn't say no to those pleading baby blues-ever since the princess was little, she'd used her puppy eyes to get what she wanted, something she had inherited from her mother. "All right, all right," Merlin relented, raising his hands in surrender. "He can stay."

Elizabeth squealed and let go of Tristan's hand to hug the wizard. "Thank you!" she whispered in his ear. "I _will_ pay you back, Merlin. You don't know how much this means to me!"

Tristan stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. "How much it means to _us_," he corrected her gently, smiling at her adoringly.

A shock riveted down Merlin's spine as a flashback hit him:

_Guinevere, still a young servant at the time, nodded. "Thank you for doing this, Merlin. Really. I can't tell you how much this means to me." Gwen glanced to Arthur. He smiled at her and looked to his manservant. _

_"How much it means to us, is what she meant," he finished._

_Merlin laughed. "I don't mind. Especially if it puts Arthur in a good mood."_

The flashback brought on a wave of sorrow and anguish that made Merlin feel like he weighed a thousand pounds. Elizabeth was staring up at him expectantly, and Tristan's eyebrows were drawn together as he stood at her side.

Merlin cleared his throat, and his mind. He slapped a bright smile on his face to keep the princess from worrying. "Welcome to Camelot, Tristan. You can take the cot in the corner. And if you need anything, by all means, ask."

* * *

The next morning, Elizabeth was in the best mood she'd been in a while.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing sweet melodies, and the air was warm and soft, like a baby's blanket. She hummed as she dressed and decided that just that once, she could skip her daily ride. She knew that Herron would be having a tantrum down in the stables, but she mentally promised him that she'd take him out for a long ride the next day.

By the time Flora and Fauna appeared with her breakfast, the princess had combed her hair and left it down in soft raven black ringlets. She'd spritzed on lavendar perfume and rubbed her callused hands with lotion to make them softer.

"Well!" Flora exclaimed. "Someone's finally taking the time to care about their appearance!"

Fauna giggled as she set down the breakfast tray on the table in front of Elizabeth. "Aren't you supposed to be out riding by now?" she asked.

Elizabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "I thought I'd take a day off. The poor horse has to be tired. And I have better things to do today."

The twins exchanged a glance. Flora cautiously questioned, "Like what, my Lady?"

The princess stopped mid-chew, a piece of ham hanging out of her mouth. She scooped the rest of it in and spoke, mouth full. "Like, well, visiting my mother, and running errands, and uh . . . working on my sewing?" The last part ended in a question, because even Elizabeth knew that was far-fetched.

Again, the twins exchanged a glance.

Then they burst into a fit of giggles.

Elizabeth's cheeks colored angrily. "What's so funny?" she demanded, setting down her fork and knife as the maids continued to guffaw.

"Oh, Lizzie!" Flora cried, wiping at her eyes as she tried to calm down. "You don't have to make excuses!"

Fauna nodded. "You can't fool us! You _never_ brush your hair and you _never_ not take your morning ride."

"There's obviously a boy involved!" Flora finished excitedly.

This time, Elizabeth's cheeks colored in embarrassment. Was it really that easy to see through her lies? What had become of the clever, witty princess would could slip out of any situation with a couple of well-put excuses? _Darn you, Tristan!_ She thought half-heartedly. She couldn't stay mad with him for long.

The princess fidgeted in her seat, biting at her lower lip. "Well . . . I guess I can tell you two."

"Yes!" they both cried, clutching their hands together in a begging way. "Please do! Oh, we've been waiting for this day for so long!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes - mainly for show. "Fine! Just shut up and I'll tell you!"

The twins settled down quickly, their green eyes wide, expectant.

Elizabeth sighed and began. "His name is Tristan. He's nineteen, he's a merchant, and he's here in Camelot as we speak."

"Ooh!" they gushed.

"Hush! I'm not finished."

"Sorry," they muttered.

"Anyway, he's very handsome and strong and brave. We've been secretly seeing each other for years. Only in the past few months have things begun to . . . happen. I asked Merlin if he could stay in his quarters because I couldn't bear to be without him so soon. Hopefully, he'll be able to stay for a couple of weeks before traveling again."

Flora blurted, "Do you love him?"

"Yes," Elizabeth grinned uncontrollably. "Yes, Flora, I do love him."

Fauna squealed in tandem with her sister. "I want to meet him!"

Elizabeth shook her head fiercely. "I don't know. It could be dangerous. If word got around to Alyon, or my mother - "

"Lizzie!" Flora said. "Your mother was a servant. Don't you think she'd understand if you didn't want to marry Prince Pervert?"

The princess laughed at the maid's scowling face. "I guess. But my father made an alliance with their kingdom long before I was born, and he promised that one of his offspring would be married to one of theirs. Since Alyon is the eldest, and I'm the only heir to Camelot's throne, we _have_ to get married." The thought saddened her, and she began to worry her bottom lip again. "Believe me, girls, I don't want to marry him. He's boring, dull, and creepy. I would do anything in the world to be with Tristan."

Fauna gasped. "Even give up your throne?"

"Even that," Elizabeth replied. "Besides, I don't care that much about it. If the whole kingdom didn't depend on me, and I had a brother or a sister that could take my place, I would take Tristan and leave in a heartbeat."

"That's so romantic!" Flora said.

Elizabeth laughed. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I love Camelot. It's my home. I would hate to leave it, but if that was the only way I could be with him . . . then I'd do it." The twins stared at her, waiting for more as they fawned over their friend's romantic excursions. Finally, the princess stood, leaving the remainder of her breakfast untouched. Her appetite had shrunk during the conversation, and she was no longer hungry for food - but for a certain someone's presence. "I'd better go. Tristan should be up by now."

Flora and Fauna followed her as she grabbed her cloak and headed towards the door. "Can we come with you?" Fauna pleaded.

Elizabeth tied her cloak around her neck. She mock-glared at them for a long moment before she sighed and answered, "Sure."

They screamed.

"Shh!" Elizabeth reprimanded them. "Stop screaming like a bunch of banshees or I will leave you behind!"

They immediately shut up.

She smiled tightly. "Much better." Opening the door, she ushered her ladies' maids out into the hall before she followed them and shut the door. Then she tugged them close to whisper, "Now, girls, how are your lying skills?"

* * *

Merlin was out running errands, so when Elizabeth and her maids knocked on the healer's chamber doors, no one answered right away.

Impatiently, Elizabeth knocked again. "Merlin!" She called. "It's me, Lizzie! Open up!"

A long, tense moment later, the knob twisted and the door cracked just enough to reveal half of a tanned face and one golden-green eye. "Liz? What are you doing here? It's not safe," Tristan whispered urgently.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shoved the door open, pushing into the room just as she had the night before. Her maids scrambled in behind her, tittering and giggling as Tristan shut the door, locked it, and turned to face the trio.

"Oh!" Flora gasped. "He_ is_ handsome, Lizzie!"

Fauna squealed. "And so very tall!"

"Look at those broad shoulders!"

"And those eyes! What a marvelous color!"

"Girls!" Elizabeth cried irritably. She wasn't usually this tense, but their shouting could get Tristan discovered. "Control yourselves, _please_!"

Tristan grinned smugly, running a hand through his tousled light brown waves. "Thank you, ladies. It's not every day a man gets showered in compliments."

The twins burst into nervous giggles and hid behind their mistress, their cheeks the color of red wine.

Then Tristan's golden-green gaze traveled to Elizabeth, and his smile grew even bigger. He wore a loose, untucked white tunic and skin-tight brown trousers that ended mid-calf. He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. His five o'clock shadow confirmed that he probably had.

He stepped closer to her, and she closed the distance by practically jumping into his arms. She soaked in his sunshine-y warmth as she snaked her arms around his waist and hid her face in his chest. His hand came up to her hair, the other at her lower back.

"Good morning," he murmured in her ear, his breath hot and tingly on her skin.

Elizabeth giggled like the twins. He felt like everything that was good and wholesome in the world - like new beginnings and beautiful sunsets. "Good morning, handsome. I hope you slept well."

He kissed her hair as he stroked it, his laughter rumbling deep in his chest and throat. "Yes. Yes, I did. After sleeping on the ground for weeks, it was nice to have a cot all to myself."

She lifted her head to look at him. His perfectly symmetrical features and boyish grin made her heart beat fast - too fast to be normal. Her hormones raged and she felt all of her love for him bubbling to the surface, making her feel fuzzy and hot on the inside. He raised his fingertips to her cheek and traced her skin down to her jaw. They were locked in an intense gaze, and they hardly noticed when the twins slipped out, leaving them alone. She circled the knobs of his collarbone with her fingertips and then leaned in and pressed a kiss into the hollow of his throat, making him shiver.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said softly.

He bent and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. "Me too."

With his fingers tangled in her curls, and her hands on his chest, they continued to kiss fervently until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke them apart.

"Sorry to interrupt," Merlin said, an edge to his voice. He approved of Tristan so far, but after walking on them locked in a passionate embrace, his overprotective side kicked in and he took up his fatherly role seriously.

Elizabeth laughed nervously. Tristan didn't budge from her side. Both of their faces were flushed and their bodies were trembling from their overworked hormones.

"Sorry, Merlin."

He shrugged, but still, he wanted to bite the young man's head off. He had been the main paternal influence in Elizabeth's life, and she was like his daughter. He loved her like she was his own. "If you want to swallow each other's faces, please do it in some place other than my chambers." He crossed the floor and made sure to step between them on the way there. Then he turned and pointed a finger right in Tristan's face, almost touching his nose, and growled, "But let me tell you something. If you hurt her, you die."

"Merlin!" Elizabeth cried in dismay.

Tristan blinked in surprise and gritted his teeth in determination. "I would _never_ hurt Lizzie. At least, not intentionally."

"Mmm-hmm," Merlin muttered. "But that's what usually happens - hurting the ones you love _un_intentionally!"

"Merlin!" Elizabeth repeated, angry as well. "Please, I order you to stop. If it bothers you so badly, we won't kiss in front of you again." She glared at him for a long moment. Then she grabbed Tristan's hand and began to lead him towards the door. "Come along, Tristan. Much has changed in Camelot since you lived here."

"Wait," Tristan said, pausing. "Let me get dressed and I'll meet you in the courtyard."

Elizabeth's expression was dark for a moment as her heart and her mind battled each other. Finally, she nodded. "Wear a cloak to cover your face. If anyone asks, you are Merlin's new apprentice and I'm simply showing you around the kingdom and doing as Merlin asked." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Squeezing his hand, she said, "Don't be late. I have to meet my mother at noon, and I don't want her to be suspicious of anything."

He nodded, not taking his eyes off her face. "I love you."

She gave him a tight, but sweet smile. "I love you, too, you moron."

And then she was gone with a swish of her cloak and a click of her boots' heels, leaving the scent of lavendar in the air as a reminder she was ever there.

* * *

At exactly ten after nine, Tristan arrived in the courtyard, his head down but eyes searching for Elizabeth steadily.

She stood waiting for him by the gates, proud and tall, her head held high. The princess had changed into a dress the color of ripe plums, with short sleeves to accomdate the newly warm weather. She smiled a tiny smile when she saw him, but stayed where she was instead of running up and embracing him as she usually did.

"You're late," she said lightheartedly as he grew close enough to hear. Her bright blue eyes scanned his frame from head to toe; he now wore a navy blue tunic rolled up to his elbows and held up by a thick belt; he also wore a thin pair of trousers tucked into boarskin boots. His face had been washed, his skin shown with health, and his smile was dazzling, as always. The princess had to suppress a shudder at the sight of him. _He looks like an avenging angel. Too perfect, too beautiful. Too . . . perfectly beautiful._

He scowled playfully. "No, I'm not. We've got a little over two and half hours."

She grinned and shook her head. She itched to take his hand, but she knew that the moment anyone saw them, he was dead for sure. They had to play the roles of mere acquaintances. She resorted to turning and walking in the direction of the market to distract herself. "Let's go, Tris. I have lots to show you."

The two of them marched past the gates and into the market. Elizabeth showed Tristan all of the changes that had been made since he left years before: the Lower Town was larger, there were two inns instead of one, and the people were flourishing along with the crops. They took their time browsing the merchandise at the market; Tristan insisted upon buying her a pretty wrap, and she wore it for the rest of their time together, the paper-thin fabric encircling her shoulders as they walked side by side. They visited old friends that they had played with when they were young, including John Barrymore, a boy that had lost the bottom half of his leg not a year before.

Sadly, their two and a half hours flew. Too soon, the cathedral's clock was striking noon and Elizabeth had to rush back to the palace. She left Tristan at Merlin's chambers with only a smile in parting and a whispered promise to see him later. Then she stopped by her chambers to drop off her new wrap. She had no idea what her mother wanted to see her for, but she knew that she didn't like to be kept waiting.

When Elizabeth knocked on her mother's chamber doors, she was greeted by the Queen herself. Today, Queen Guinevere wore a rich green dress and her hair was held back in an entricate updo by mother-of-pearl pins. Simple, but lovely.

"Hello, Mother," Elizabeth said, still trying to catch her breath from the sprint up the stairs.

The Queen smiled beningly, letting her daughter into her room. "Please take a seat, my dear."

Elizabeth sat down on her mother's vanity stool and faced her, curiosity building in her chest as her mother stayed by the door, her dark eyes troubled. The princess fidgeted with her hands as her mother remained completely silent. Something was bothering the Queen, and it had to do with Elizabeth. Had Flora and Fauna accidentally spilled? Did the Queen know all about her relationship with Tristan? Had Guinevere seen Elizabeth sneaking out the night before and had a guard follow her?

Finally, the Queen sighed and said, "It's about Alyon."

Elizabeth's chest tightened with anger this time at the mention of her betrothed's dreadful name. She gritted her teeth, scowling. "What about that pervert, Mother?"

Guinevere frowned. "Lizzie, I have taught you better. Do not disrespect him. He is to be your husband."

The princess's hands curled into tight little fists. "But I don't _want_ him to be."

"I know that, darling. Believe me, if I could undo this, I would."

Elizabeth reared back in shock. "_What_?"

"You heard me," Guinevere said. "I don't want you to marry him anymore than you do." She came over to her daughter and took her face into her hands. Her dark eyes were sad, the crow's feet around her eyes deep with her worries. "My sweet Elizabeth. If only your father were here."

"What do you mean?"

Again, the Queen sighed. "Dearest, your father is the only one that can get you out of this marriage. Though I am the Queen, Prince Alyon's father is still wary of me because of my background. He won't let me change anything in the alliance because I didn't sign the treaty - just your father."

Elizabeth shook off her mother's hands and stood. "Why didn't you sign the treaty, Mother?"

Guinevere shrugged. "I had just become Queen. Arthur didn't pressure me into it. At the time, Alyon's mother was gravely ill and they didn't see it fair that only one Queen signed." She didn't elaborate any more, and this irritated the princess.

Elizabeth waved her hands impatiently in the air. "Is this what you called me up here to talk about? A way to get out of my arranged marriage?"

"No," Guinevere said sadly. "I'm afraid not, my dear." She stepped to her window, her eyes shifting down to the courtyard below, and the servants, knights, and commoners bustling about. "Alyon has asked for my permission to court you, Elizabeth."

The princess felt like she'd been slapped. All of her bliss from her morning spent with Tristan evaporated and her legs suddenly felt faint. Elizabeth _never_ fainted. But at the thought of spending time with that disgusting creature on her own free time, she felt physically sick.

"He _what_?" she spat angrily, grabbing on to the back of a chair to steady herself.

This obviously didn't sit well with the Queen either. She pursed her lips. "I know that you don't want to, Lizzie. But you must. This marriage _has_ to happen."

"No, it doesn't!" Elizabeth roared weakly.

"Yes, it does!" The Queen hissed. She squared her shoulders and held up her chin, reminding her daughter that not only was she her mother, but her Queen. "Like I said, I don't like it anymore than you do, but you _will_ marry Alyon and you _will_ let him court you!"

This enraged Elizabeth. She gave her mother a dirty, hateful look, one she usually reserved for Alyon alone, and then turned and raced for the door. Just as she was about to slam it behind her, the Queen called out, "He will come for you around three o'clock, dear. Please try to look your best."

With an angry cry, Elizabeth shut the door so hard it shook on its hinges. The guards jumped out of the way as she stormed past. She immediately headed in the direction of Merlin's chambers, where she always went to vent before she took out her anger on the unwilling practice dummies with any weapon she could get her hands on. On the way there, she unfortunately ran into the one person she never wanted to see again.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Prince Alyon sneered, his nasally voice full of grimy superiorty. His dead fish eyes bore into her face. He looked like a corpse ready for the morgue. "It's a lovely day, isn't it? And that dress looks absolutely _ravishing _on you."

Elizabeth held in the urge to take a swing at him. _Pervert._ Her fists trembled at her sides. "Leave me alone, Alyon."

The prince raised an eyebrow. "That's no way to talk to your betrothed, princess."

_Why you little -_ "Listen," she growled out before she began to threaten him. "I can't go anywhere with you today. I'm busy with . . . other stuff. I'm sorry. Maybe some other time." She tried to scoot around him as she spoke, but he sidestepped and remained in front of her, blocking her path.

"What other stuff?"

"_Important_ stuff," Elizabeth hissed. "None-of-your-business stuff."

"You _are_ my business, princess," he said annoyingly. "You're my future wife, after all."

Elizabeth thought she was going to puke. Even thinking about sharing a bed with this man for the rest of her life, and having to bear his children, made her sick to her stomach. It took her a moment to respond. "Sorry. But it's . . . top secret wedding stuff, okay?" She hated to even think about her wedding, but if it would keep Alyon off her back, so be it.

Alyon raised both of his eyebrows. He had taken the bait. "Oh. Are you already having your dress made?"

She hastily jumped onto that. "Yes! But don't let anyone know I told you. Like I said, it's supposed to be a secret."

After a few more minutes of unbearable conversation with the prince, Elizabeth escaped. She had gotten out of an afternoon outing with Alyon, but now she had herself committed to one the next day. Making sure that Alyon was gone, she dashed down the stairs and took the back way to Merlin's chambers. When she arrived, Merlin and Tristan seemed to be having a heated conversation that broke off the minute she entered.

"Liz?" Tristan caught sight of her expression and immediately felt concerned for her. "Are you all right? Did something happen?"

Elizabeth's stomach churned and her held felt tight with pressure. She stumbled into his arms, buried her face in his chest, and with all of the stress of the day bearing down on her, burst into tears. The princess had hardly ever cried - in fact, she could count all the times she had on one hand.

"Lizzie?" Merlin asked softly, his hand suddenly appearing on her shoulder. "Lizzie, dear, what's wrong?"

She didn't reply. Tristan guided her to his cot, where she curled up half on his lap, and half off. He rested his chin on her head as she cried, not daring to let her go for a second. Merlin watched them for a while, but when he realized Elizabeth wasn't going to be ready to talk for a while, he went about his business quietly.

Finally, the princess dried her eyes with her skirt. Tristan helped her sit up straighter and she let her fierce hold on his shirt loosen.

He pushed the curls out of her eyes. "Tell me what happened that made you so upset, Liz." He kissed the bridge of her nose. "I can't stand to see you this way."

Her voice thick and heavy with unshed tears, Elizabeth told him everything - from the argument with her mother to the awkward conversation with Alyon in the corridor. When she told him about her arranged marriage to the terrible prince, something she had never mentioned before, Tristan stood and began to pace angrily, his handsome face dark with enmity and muscles coiled for a fight. Merlin took his place next to Elizabeth on the cot and tried to comfort her with a hug. She had kept the arranged marriage thing from him because she knew he'd probably do the noble thing and leave her before they got in too deep.

"This man is not just a pervert, Lizzie, he's a disgusting old tramp!" Tristan cried suddenly, running his hands through his hair and making her jump. His golden-green eyes were on fire, and his full mouth was set in a scowl. "If he _ever_ stops you again in the halls, or tries to stop you anywhere alone, you yell for me, okay?"

She shook her head. "I can't, Tristan. If anyone found out - "

"I'd be killed, thrown into prison, blah blah blah," he growled. He slammed his hands down onto the table, rattling potion bottleds and herbs. "I don't _care_, Liz. I love you too much to let anything - or any _man_ bring harm to you."

She stood and took his hands into hers, the pure sincerity of his words ringing in her ears. "But you can't do anything about this. I wish you could. But I have to marry him, for the good of the kingdom." She touched his face, her hands shaking. "I can handle this, Tristan. I'll find some way to get out of this, I promise."

They stood there for a long moment, both of them breathing heavily, their eyes locked. Then he sighed, took her fingers and kissed them in surrender.

"Okay," he whispered shakily. His voice grew edgy. "But if he tries anything on you, tries to touch you in any inappropriate way, I'll - "

"He won't," Elizabeth interrupted him, her voice regaining her strength. She forced a wry grin. "Believe me, the prince's nasty little hands would be cut off before he ever laid a finger on the heir of Camelot."

* * *

_Just some drama. This is more of a fill-in chapter. _

_Hopefully more adventure and romance coming soon! _

_I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and tell me what you think!_

_XOXO, OceansAria_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The outing ended up being put off to the next week. Rain stalled Alyon's plans, and saved Elizabeth from hours of torture. She spent as much of her time as possible with Tristan - they took walks, met in back halls, and avoided all physical contact in front of anyone but the twins and Merlin. The twins insisted upon hearing about Elizabeth's adventures with Tristan every evening as she got ready for bed. They would drink tea and gossip until their eyelids were heavy with sleep.

The dreaded outing that next Thursday with Prince Alyon gave Elizabeth her very first migraine. He didn't stop talking the entire time - from the moment they got into their saddles until they parted at her chamber doors. He was only interested in his soliloquy about himself, politics, and how many boars he'd killed during hunting season. He never once asked about Elizabeth's interests, and hardly addressed her at all, besides to leer and comment about her body and clothing.

When Alyon finally left the princess at her room, he tried to kiss her, but she shoved him, almost unconsciously. He'd laughed it off, but Elizabeth was glad she'd done it. No one besides Tristan was allowed to touch her in such an intimate way.

_Speaking of Tristan_, Elizabeth thought as she reclined on her bed, twirling her dagger between her fingers. _I'm supposed to meet him tonight. But that seems so far away . . ._

Sitting up suddenly, the princess swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet hitting the stone floor with two identical _thuds._ She absentmindedly threw her dagger at a makeshift target she'd hung on her dressing screen. The dagger hit dead center, but the princess didn't notice as she hastily pulled on her boots and brushed her hair, trying to look presentable. She'd already changed from the dress her mother had made her wear for the outing and into her usual tunic-and-legging attire. With a quick glance in the mirror, she decided she looked all right and took off.

On the way there, she stopped at the kitchens and snagged some food and a small bottle of wildberry wine. She was old enough to drink now, and since she'd tried the stuff the other night at her birthday party, she'd come to like it.

Elizabeth skipped down the corridors and hummed as she went along. Tristan had been busy earning his keep by going out to dig up herbs for Merlin and running into town on errands all day, but it was almost dark and he'd be free right around this time. She'd let Flora and Fauna know that morning that she wouldn't be eating supper in her room that night, as was scheduled. Her mother was dining with an important ally, and though she'd been invited, she'd declined when she returned with a piercing headache and the urge to see Tristan.

Tristan spent most of his free time in the woods or in the library. He'd gone to the tavern once, and returned drunker than a skunk, singing crude melodies that made Elizabeth laugh until her sides hurt. Merlin had been the one to retrieve him. The next morning, Tristan had been so ashamed of himself his cheeks didn't return to their normal color for hours.

She had a feeling that he wouldn't be stuck in the library on such a beautiful day. It was very warm out, but the sky was clear and a soft breeze brushed the sweat off her forehead. Though she'd been in the woods for hours already, she didn't mind entering them again. The woods were her home away from home, and the only place where she felt like she could be herself.

Elizabeth snuck out of the palace through the back garden gate. It squeaked a little from misuse over the past week. All the way to the stream, Elizabeth hummed a tune about lost men returning home to their women, and love restored to its finest. She caught sight of his brown hair catching the sunlight up ahead, his back turned to her. He was fiddling with something as he sat on the ground by the stream. Tristan had always been good at fixing and making things. Elizabeth slowed her steps and stopped humming, creeping up on him slowly from behind.

Just as she was close enough to reach out and touch him, she leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Boo!"

He didn't so much as jump, but continued working on his project. A grin split his mouth. "I thought I heard you coming."

Elizabeth sighed and plopped down next to him in the dirt, the bag of food falling between them. "You _heard_ me? God. I've gotten really slack on my stealth."

Tristan smirked. "I have that effect on women."

Elizabeth punched his shoulder playfully. She watched the muscles work in his forearms and hands as his nimble fingers tied up a fishing line. They were quiet for a long moment as Tristan bit off the remainder of the line and tested out his new fishing pole. His feet were bare; his trousers rolled up to his knees. His hair was tousled and his eyes were bright as he turned to look at her. He was so handsome and distracting, that Elizabeth lost her train of thought.

He pointed to the bag. "Whatcha got there?"

"Oh!" She'd gotten too caught up in staring at him and had forgotten about the food. Her cheeks burned as she reached over, picked up the sack, and began to untie it. Out spilled a couple of apples, rolls, plump grapes, and a block of cheese. "A feast fit for royalty," she said with a laugh.

Tristan chuckled, casting his line out into the deeper part of the stream. "Need a knife?"

"Yeah."

He leaned up to reach into his back pocket and handed her a small knife, dull from years of use. On the dark wood handle was an older engracing: _W + M._

Elizabeth scrutinized the engraving as Tristan fished. "Who was W and M?" she finally asked as she sliced the cheese in thin, even slices.

Tristan remained silent for a long moment before quietly replying:

"They were my parents."

"They died when you were, what, eight?"

"Nine."

The princess halved the rolls and set cheese on two of them. "What were their names?"

"Wesley and Marianna," he began to reel in his line slowly as he talked. "They fell in love on a farm outside of the kingdom. They got married when my mother was fifteen and my father was seventeen. About a year later, they had me."

Elizabeth handed him a roll and he thanked her with the slight incline of his jaw. She picked up her own and bit into it, chewing hard as she thought and the slow _whir-whir_ of Tristan's fishing line resounded through the air. She swallowed the cheese and bread, then reached for the bottle of wine to take a sip.

"How did they die?" she asked softly, when the wine had washed away the remaining traces of cheese stuck to her back molars.

Tristan's golden-green eyes hardened as he re-cast his fishing pole and sighed. "My father had the influenza that was passing around that year, and died after suffering for most of the winter. My mother dropped dead without an explanation a month later."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something further, but he stopped her by saying, "Please do not give me your condolences. Even if they are sincere, I don't need nor want them."

Instead of feeling stung, Elizabeth simply felt sad. Two more things they had in common - they both hated pity, and both had lost their fathers. She reached out and settled her hand on his knee. He glanced her way, his full mouth turned down at the edges. Elizabeth whispered, "At least you knew your father, even if it was for short while."

Tristan nodded. "He was a good man. As was your father - or so I've heard."

"That's the thing," Elizabeth huffed. "I've always _heard_ about my father. I'll never get to see him, or hear him say my name, or know what it's like to hug him and have him be proud of me." Her appetite dissipated and she curled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Everyone talks about how wonderful my father was, and I'm so freakin'_ tired of it._"

Confused, Tristan set down his fishing pole and moved closer. "Liz, I thought you liked to hear the knights tell stories about your father. You said it comforted you."

"Sure it does," Elizabeth hissed, suddenly angry and full of fire. "But at the same time . . . I'm jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Yes, Tristan. _Jealous_." Elizabeth stood and began to pace by the stream, her hands balled up into fists. "_They_ got to know him, and hunt with him, and be his companions! He was my _father_ for crying out loud, and I'll never get to know what it was like to hold a conversation with him!" She angrily yanked at her curls. "They all tell me how I'm so much like him because I'm rude and brutally honest, but I'll never know that for sure, because I _will never know him._"

"Elizabeth - " Tristan stood, licking his lips hastily. "Love, stop it. I know you're upset. But you need to calm down - "

The princess turned on him, her fist raised. "Don't you _dare_ tell me to calm down! I am your future Queen, and you will respect me!"

Instead of retorting, Tristan scowled but placed his hands on her shoulders and stared at her dead-on. "Liz," he whispered. "I'm telling you to calm down because you were screaming and I really don't think you want to get caught out here by the guards."

Elizabeth glared at him silently for a few minutes, breathing heavily, her body trembling with enmity. Finally, she let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

Tristan smiled tensely, brushing a curl out of her blue eyes and tucking it behind her ear. He kissed her forehead. "I understand how you feel, love. But you can't lose your head over this. You have to realize that being angry and yelling about it won't help anything. Your father is dead, and he's not coming back. _Ever_."

No one had ever been so blunt about her father before. At first, the anger welled up again, but she tampered in down when she realized that he was right. There was no way in Hell that King Arthur would ever return, alive. Elizabeth realized she was being utterly childish and had made a fool of herself. Feeling ashamed, she resettled herself on the ground by the stream and began to eat again.

"The guards won't come," she said softly. "They're busy in the palace. Many were given the day off." Tristan raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled and handed him an apple that she'd already bitten into. "No one will even notice that I'm gone."

However, as the couple ate and talked by the stream, they never noticed that from high up in one of the empty watch towers, a young man stood, watching them from the shadows. His thin lips were pursed into a white line, and his fingers drummed against the stone. He was alone until a servant, wary and worn-out, scuttled up to him like a crab.

"My Lord," the servant croaked, bowing in front of his master. "Are you ready to come back inside? The feast has just begun."

The young man's eyes didn't waver from the disgustingly sweet scene in front of him, as the princess leaned in and planted a bold kiss on the healer's apprentice's lips. Jealousy, a deep envy green, writhed in his dark soul and red hot anger made him feel as if he were burning.

"My Lord?" the servant asked nervously, awaiting an answer.

The young man finally turned to face his servant. Eyes the color of steel glowered down at the haggled servant.

"Tell the Queen that I have retired to my chambers," the man said in a softly dangerous voice. Then he turned back to stare into the woods below. His bone-thin fingers tightened into curled fists as the healer's apprentice and the princess splashed each other with water from the stream, laughing and joking. The young man took one final glance and slunk deeper into the shadows. The servant had already started off towards the banquet hall when the man called out, "And, Bryson?"

"Y-Yes, my Lord?"

"Send our dear old friend Lucias a message," he growled in a cat-like purr. He grinned maliciously. "It is time we do some . . . _business_."


End file.
